Duxbury Beach

BATHERS AND BIRDS AND BALANCE...FOR NOW

The Duxbury Beach parking lot is bustling with activity one mid-September morning. Dozens of volunteers place and adjust orange safety cones as others sweep sand from tricky corners. A triathlon Race Director stands at a crucial intersection and for the tenth time visualizes how hundreds of swimmers will exit the water, mount their bikes, head across the bridge, bike a dozen or so miles, return across the bridge, change into their running shoes, head back across the bridge and return to the finish. He instructs his crew to make a few last minute adjustments before being called to make another decision at the other end of the parking lot.

Early-bird racers arrive, some by car, others riding expensive bikes and turn left off the wooden bridge into the busy parking lot and toward the triathlon’s transition area and registration tent. Among those coming across the bridge are another sort of early bird: occasional walkers toting binoculars, cameras with long lenses, a few with birding scopes. Instead of turning left they turn right at the end of the bridge, away from the hubbub and start a long walk down the length of Duxbury Beach hoping to catch a glimpse of one of many shore birds getting ready to head south for the winter.

As the September sun rises, the coolness of a late summer evening is replaced by the warmth of what promises to be another glorious day. In an hour or so the swimmers will start at the far end of the bridge, swimming a half-mile east and parallel to the bridge back to the beach completing the first leg of the race. Within three hours all of the competitors will have completed the three legs of the swim, bike, run event and volunteers will pick up the cones they so carefully placed only hours before. By noon there will be little sign that a triathlon even occurred save the large tent and porta potties to be collected later. But the beach will remain busy as more casual bathers and sun seekers taking advantage of the late summer beach day replace athletes and birders.

Duxbury Beach is owned by the Duxbury Beach Reservation (DBR) whose mission statement, a run-on sentence impossible to recite in a single breath, essentially says that the Beach is to be managed as an environmental and ecological asset with additional consideration for its recreational value.

The mission is “to preserve the beaches in so far as reasonably possible in their natural state as a host to marine life, nature and migratory birds and indigenous vegetation, as barrier beaches for the protection of Duxbury and Kingston as a priceless environmental asset to the Commonwealth and the nation; and to operate for the benefit of the people of Duxbury and the general public a public recreational beach with all necessary and incidental facilities, while preserving the right to limit such use so as to be consistent with the corporations primary ecological objective.”

The mission's focus on habitat would seem to set up a conflict between birds and bathers. But the challenge is more than that. The beach is also the sole land route to a summer community that has been around since before the Pilgrims. The question to answer: “How do we have it all?” How do we strike a balance among those visiting the beach, those whose habitat is the beach and those who pass over the beach to get to their summer cottages? It is a challenge.

Duxbury Beach is a roughly six-mile barrier beach extending from Marshfield, Massachusetts to its southern terminus at Gurnet Point in Plymouth: a ribbon of sand separating the Atlantic Ocean and Cape Cod Bay on the east from Duxbury Bay and portions of Plymouth Bay to the west. Without the barrier properties along Duxbury’s coast might be exposed to waves built up over a hundred miles rather than the short distance between the beach and those luxury homes.

Anchored by glacial drumlins formed 18,000 years ago when the Laurentide ice-sheet bulldozed sand and rock from the north into piles, the beach formed roughly 2,000 years ago as rising post-glacial seas eroded sediment from these headlands. To this day the beach migrates toward the west. Roughly 1,400 years ago it was 500 feet east of its present location and migration continues at roughly one foot per year.

Duxbury Beach is also important habitat for wildlife. Migratory birds used the beach as either a stopover or destination. Snowy owls, Snow Bunting and Larkspur migrate south during the winter months. Summer brings countless shorebirds, among them the Piping Plover, who arrive in late March to nest and raise young before heading south in September and October. The beach is an attractive destination to raise young during the northern hemisphere’s summer months.

The plover’s diet consists of insects, marine worms and small crustaceans. They pick through seaweed along the wrack line and race up the beach and then back as waves run-up and recede, run-up and recede.

Plovers nest in small depressions in the sand and their chicks leave the nest within hours of hatching, little white cotton balls atop impossibly long legs. For several weeks, until they fledge, the chicks focus on eating and not being seen. After a few months, with the end of summer around the corner the plovers migrate south to the Bahamas or Cuba. They have done that for centuries. The plovers, or more specifically, the Piping Plovers are listed at both the Federal and State level as Threatened. They are not the only protected species on the beach. The Least Tern, which nests in colonies on the beach, is listed as a Species of Concern. Two listed species on the beach.

Cris Luttazi is the Duxbury Beach Reservation’s first Executive Director, on the job less than two years. As Luttazi explains, the Reservation worked with the state’s endangered species regulators, Massachusetts Audubon Society and others to develop an “extremely robust bird-monitoring program” that attempts to protect the Piping Plover and Least Tern while also providing recreational access to beach lovers.

That program requires at least one monitor for every nesting pair of Piping Plovers on the beach. The monitors keep watch over nesting pairs and their offspring until the young fledge. The birds arrive fairly reliably around March 22nd. By April 1st the Reservation sets up protective fencing around suitable habitat to keep people and some predators away from the birds. The young hatch before long but most do not fledge until well into July.

Once the exclusionary fencing is established public access to the beach within the exclusion zone is prohibited. If the exclusion zone extends across the beach road, vehicular access is also restricted. Monitors may stop vehicles if plover chicks are attempting to cross the beach road. A line of cars, waiting to drive onto the beach, can form as chicks scamper back and forth.

Not all are happy with the sharing arrangement at the beach. Tom, a 30-year Duxbury resident thinks the balance of accommodation has tipped a little too far toward the birds. “I understand the [DBR] is doing what it has to, my beef is with the Endangered Species Act. We close the beach in Duxbury and in the fall the birds fly south where people eat them.”

The absence of protection outside the United States does put the plovers at risk. Habitat destruction and predation contribute to the challenges of stabilizing the population of a species whose migration does not recognize international borders.

“I like birds, I really do, but c’mon, do we have to shut down the entire beach when one of them decides to nest at a crossover?” Tom is referring to a pair of plovers who, two years ago, decided to nest close to one of a handful of points where oversand vehicles, those vehicles equipped to drive on the beach, access the front beach from the road. The exclusion zone surrounding the nest extended onto the crossover significantly restricting recreational access to a long stretch of beach for months. “The town sells all these beach sticker and then tells people they can’t use the beach? That’s not right.”

Tom is not alone. To many Duxbury Beach is a summer destination – an uninterrupted stretch of sun and sand providing access to the Atlantic. For decades and longer families from across southeastern Massachusetts have packed up the beach cruiser to drive onto the beach for the day. On summer weekends it is not unusual to see cars loaded with beach chairs, boogie board, sun tents and firewood, queuing on the bridge waiting for 8:00 AM when the gates open. More than a few of these cars sport a bumper sticker that speaks for those frustrated by the deference given to the birds: Plover, Tastes Like Chicken.

More than a few of these cars sport a bumper sticker that speaks for those frustrated by the deference given to the birds: Plover, Tastes Like Chicken.

Many beachgoers view exclusionary fencing and bird monitors as a huge inconvenience. And Luttazi points out that the Reservation could do away with the monitoring program but the alternative would probably be less acceptable. “If you read the [Endangered Species] Act, there is another option and that option is that each nest is fenced off for 1,000 meters.” A few nesting pairs could require the Reservation to effectively shut down the entire beach. The Beach Management Plan, which requires exclusionary fencing and plovers monitors, is also the plan that maximizes access to the beach. “The monitors are there to allow recreation on the beach” through a rigorous and labor-intensive arrangement with regulators.

Others share Luttazi’s perspective that the Birds-versus-Bathers approach to balancing habitat and recreation is significantly more nuanced. Patrick Paquette, President of the Massachusetts Beach Buggy Association (MBBA) emphasizes that the birds and the bathers really both want the same thing, to enjoy and spend time in an environment in its natural condition.

Paquette’s organization evolved out of a desire on the part of fin and shell fisherman as well as waterfowl hunters to preserve their right to access the shore. Some of the oldest laws in the country restrict the private property owner’s right to limit shore access to those wanting to fish, fowl or navigate.

Paquette and the MBBA argue that the tastes-like-chicken approach is counterproductive and offends those who want to strike a balance. “We do not want Cape Cod to become Virginia Beach.” It is not one or the other.

Paquette points out that active management of the beach benefits all stakeholders including the birds. His association, which has worked with State and Federal regulators to develop management plans at several beaches, argues that in many instances, shore birds may benefit from a human presence citing reduced predation and increased fledge rates on actively managed beaches.

Paquette has little time for those seeking to do away with the Endangered Species Act in the name of creating space for sunbathers. “They can go sit at the kids’ table.” Instead MBBA views the government and those seeking to enforce the Act as partners in the preservation of the beach in an undeveloped condition for the benefit and enjoyment of both humans and wildlife. “The sporting community is the community with the closest goals to the bird people. We want to preserve the environment so we can use it.”

With rising sea level, the beach is changing. That storms and ocean weather alter the beach is not new information. Colonists in the mid-1700s recognized the damage caused by grazing cattle on the beach and set about preventing such damage. Receipts for repair of the beach go back at least as far as the early 1800s and recommendations for maintenance of the beach, including planting and protecting dune grass go back to the mid-1800s. In the 1950s residents placed some 6,000 empty cable spools to stabilize sand. Unfortunately many of these unsecured spools floated off soon after to wash up on beaches as far away as South America.

The response to storm damage has been to put sand back on the beach. When the Blizzard of ’78 created 26 breaches, one of which was over 1,000 feet wide, the DBR responded by placing 45,000 cubic yards of sand and over 15,000 feet of snow fence to rebuild the dune. The No-Name Storm of 1991 created washovers along the entire length of the beach and destroyed upwards of 90% of the vegetation. A dozen D-8 bulldozers and loaders moved an estimated 400,000 cubic yards of sand over the course of two weeks. The cost for this restoration? Over a million dollars. In March 2018 a series of storms breached the beach in several locations. Restoration took months.

As time passes the beach is becoming less a natural feature and more a constructed feature. Casual inspection of dune grass reveals the regular placement of culms that results from near annual grass planting events. The strategic placement of open stretches of cobble, the preferred habitat for plovers, is evidence of the DBR’s efforts to encourage the birds to nest in areas that will not interfere with recreation. Bulldozers and dump trucks building dunes are an increasingly common sight. Lutazzi acknowledges that the beach is increasingly a “built” structure and Paquette agrees that the beach is heavily managed. “There is something different as to why it is working but it is working. They get to do things [in Duxbury] that we can’t do in other places, but it is working.”

But the events that change the beach are coming more frequently. Luttazi does not even like to use the term damage preferring “alteration.” “The astronomically high tides on windy days are pushing water to places we did not see ten or fifteen years ago.” As sea level continues to rise the alteration from high tides and storms will only come more frequently, storms will compound the change.

Whether you call it damage or alteration, restoring the beach to pre-existing conditions after a storm event costs money, a lot of it. Historically the Federal government provided assistance in the form of funding through the Federal Emergency Management Agency, but the beach was recently classified as a “recreational” beach and is therefore not eligible for emergency repair funds. More recently, the money has come as state-funded “resiliency” projects. Luttazi estimates the cost for full beach nourishment, bringing sand onto the beach, shaping the beach and establishing vegetation, is around $10 million. Raising that money to stabilize the beach will be a challenge.

Further complicating beach management is maintenance of a road along the backside of the beach. The road extends the entire length of the beach from Marshfield to Gurnet Point. Though the Reservation owns the beach, a right of way memorialized centuries ago grants Gurnet Point residents the right to pass over the beach.

The Pilgrims passed by Gurnet Point, one of the drumlins anchoring the beach, as they entered Plymouth Bay searching for a place to settle. They celebrated their first Sabbath on Clark’s Island, a small island protected by Gurnet Point and the beach. In 1720, Colonists constructed a lighthouse, later named Gurnet Light as a navigational aid marking the entrance to Plymouth Bay. In 1776 Fort Andrew, a six cannon earthworks fort was constructed on land immediately surrounding the lighthouse to protect the bay from the British. Though the cannons were removed long ago the earthworks remain.

The lighthouse and fort occupy only a few acres at the highest point atop Gurnet Point. Colonists used the remaining roughly 94 acres for farming and haying into the 1800s. With abundant salt hay and a shoreline that provided a natural fence for livestock, to say nothing of the bounty of shellfish, settlers and those who followed found Gurnet Point an attractive, if isolated, place to live.

Today a couple of dozen cottages and more substantial homes share Gurnet Point with the lighthouse and the fort. A few hearty soles live on “The Gurnet” year-round but most spend the winter months elsewhere. There is no municipal water, sewer or electricity so folks have to be pretty self-sufficient. But stunning views reward those willing to forgo some conveniences. From the lighthouse one can look north along the length of the beach and see Boston. Turn east and you can see Provincetown, twenty miles away. Turn south and you can see the entire length of Cape Cod.

Luttazi considers the Gurnet residents’ right of way a double-edged sword. On one hand, the Reservation is not obliged to maintain a roadway, only to permit passage over the beach to the Point. In that respect, the Reservation is not required to construct or maintain any roadway. If the roadway washes out residents of the Gurnet are on their own as to where, how and whether they drive over the beach. On the other hand, because the right of way is not specific as to where residents of Gurnet are permitted to pass, the reservation cannot legally limit access to just the roadway. If the road washes out, the residents are on their own as to where, how and whether they drive on the beach. Two sides of the same sword.

For Luttazi maintenance of the road is a balancing act. “We want to create a path of least resistance” so that residents do not feel the need to leave the roadway. Maintaining the ecological mission of the Reservation is easier if people stay on the road.

Pre-dawn on mid-November morning, the snow has passed but spits of rain persist. A strong wind, steady at 20 to 30 knots with gusts to 50 blows from the east pushing waves and water onto Duxbury Beach. The tide is high. It is not the astronomically high tide associated with full and new moons but combined with the storm surge it is high enough. Waves churn up the beachfront to the base of the dune where the beach grass starts.

Standing on this barrier beach looking into the dark gray of Cape Cod Bay the ocean is a roiling mass of crashing surf. Waves, unable to recede, stack upon one another. A steady roar of wind and water accentuated periodically with a concussive thump as larger breakers topple. Beyond the breakers a rolling grey sea. Wave crests break into spindrift, foam is blown into well-defined streaks, on the Beaufort scale these are the signs of a Gale.

In the predawn gloom, headlights approach from a mile down the beach, bouncing and twisting in the telltale fashion of a vehicle driving around and through puddles in the dirt road. After a few minutes a pickup passes and one can make out the blue and green logo of the Duxbury Beach Reservation. The truck turns onto the Powder Point Bridge connecting the beach to the mainland, taillights disappear in the dark.

On the bay side of the barrier beach the wind whips water into whitecaps that race toward Standish Shore. The low dunes create enough of a barrier so that in the immediate lee of the beach waves are small but reach a foot or so in height over the less-than half-mile fetch between the beach and the mainland shore. Even here the wave’s erosion is evident as a windswept current moves sand from here to there.

The DBR offices are on the second floor of a building owned by a local maritime school overlooking Duxbury Bays’ aptly named Snug Harbor. A stiff breeze blows and the windows occasionally shudder but the harbor is otherwise quiet. A few floats remain tethered to moorings but summer boats have been pulled and stored for the winter. Beyond the empty mooring field lies Duxbury Beach, a thin line of sand on the horizon just under two miles to the East. Standing at a window in Luttazi’s office, Cris points to a spot in the yard separating the school from the bay. “You see those cobbles on the grass? They weren’t there yesterday. That is from the storm last night. Just those little waves that set up in the bay. Now think of the damage if the beach was not there.”

With sea level rise the beach will shrink, narrowing here and there where wash over and erosion are most pronounced. The cost to elevate the beach and restore the beach when the inevitable washover occurs will also increase. As the beach gets smaller striking the balance between public access and habitat protection while maintaining the historical right of way to Gurnet Point will grow more challenging. Rising sea level threatens everyone with an interest in the beach. Barrier beaches are, by their nature, transient features and geologists predict that one day the beach will detach from Gurnet Point possibly rewelding itself to Clark’s Island. Gurnet Point will become an island. When it detaches is harder to predict.

Luttazi recognizes that eventually it will become impossible to manage the beach in its current form. Eventually a significant breach will occur and the beach will be altered forever. “In my lifetime? Probably not. But eventually it will change”. And when that happens the dynamics of the beach and all that go it will change.